


Never Quite What You Came For

by audrey1nd, RsCreighton



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Curtain Fic, Domestic, IKEA, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1993206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audrey1nd/pseuds/audrey1nd, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam decides Steve needs some new furniture. They don't get quite what they came for, but it's just as good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Quite What You Came For

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to reena_jenkins for the beta and encouragement! This fic was basically her idea and as I have yet to go to an Ikea, all store descriptions are hers as well. 
> 
> And of course to the wonderfully enthusiastic RsCreighton. I hope you enjoyed recording it!

[MP3](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2014/Never%20Quite%20What%20You%20Came%20For-audrey1nd,%20RsCreighton.mp3)  
[M4B](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2014/Never%20Quite%20What%20You%20Came%20For-audrey1nd,%20RsCreighton.m4b)

Steve is lounging in the door watching Sam as he finishes up a session. Because while Steve's super-secret government employer might no longer exist, Sam still has a job to do at the VA hospital. And an apartment to furnish.

Steve's apartment, to be exact. Sam was getting a little tired of making out on Steve's beat-up old couch. Steve had picked it up at a yard sale on one of his runs. Or rather, he'd called Sam to come and pick it up. Sam had hated it ever since. It was serviceable, but it wasn't what Sam would call comfortable.  
Steve's garage-sale sofa – with the lumps and that one spring that would poke Sam just as he was getting comfortable – was fine for the first few weeks when they were just hanging out and watching movies from Steve's list. Steve was healing – even with the super serum, gun shots still took time to heal – so they'd been taking it easy. They'd put any talk of looking for Bucky on hold while he did. "Laid back" was the theme for the month. And then one night while they were watching another episode of Star Trek, Steve turned to Sam with his best Shatner voice, and asked "May I...kiss you?" Sam laughed at the impression, which was horrible, before leaning forward and kissing him.

And then their "Steve is a fossil and needs some pop culture in his life" movie sessions became make out sessions. At which point Sam decided Steve needed a new couch.

This brings them back to Steve lounging in the doorway, _not_ fidgeting, and waiting for Sam to finish up so they can go to Ikea. Because it turns out that when a guy get his entire apartment shot to bits, he loses more than just a couch. Not that he'd had too much furniture to begin with, he'd admitted to Sam. Steve also needs drafting table. And a kitchen table. And maybe some chairs. The couch tends to get a bit crowded when Natasha comes over; she's started making noises about Sam hosting a dinner party at his place since Steve doesn't have the furniture (or the kitchen supplies) to host. And Sam will be damned if he lets Clint in his house. Despite the lack of furniture at Steve's Sam still manages to find arrows hidden in it.  
So: Ikea. It's the best solution for Sam's domestic problems.

 

Before they get in the car, Sam tweets, "Taking Steve to Ikea for some furniture."

His phone beeps as he merges onto the highway. Steve picks it up and reads, "Natasha says, "Don't break any beds." Come on, that was once. And we fixed it!"

"You're right. You also need a new bed. But maybe not from Ikea. We might need something a bit more sturdy."

Steve chuckles, because broken bed aside, that had been a pretty great night, and reads Sam directions off his phone.

 

Steve whistles as they pulled into the parking lot. "Wow, this place is big. No wonder there's so much hype."

Sam chuckles to himself, as he closes the car door, locking it with a beep as Steve exits the car. "Don't worry, there's a food court if you get hungry. The meatballs are pretty good, if you get hungry enough for that."

"Are we really going to be here for that long?" Steve asks skeptically. "I mean, it's a big place, but I don't need that much stuff. Besides, couldn't we have just ordered everything online?"

"Steve, my man. Ikea is an _experience._ Just go with it, okay?"

Steve shrugs as they enter the store, marveling at the amount of furniture on display. To Steve's right, there's entire kitchens that look like they've been transplanted directly from a catalogue; to his left, colorful appliances and knick-knacks cover almost every available square inch of wall space. Sam grabs two blue mesh totebags from a rack of dozens, and starts filling one up with all sorts of small items. He passes the other totebag to Steve, and then hands him a miniature pencil and notepad.

"What is this?" Steve asks suspiciously, glancing between the lined paper in his hands and Sam's enthusiastic browsing.

"It's so you know what stuff you like if it's too big to fit in the bag. You write down the model name, for the big stuff, and then you go pick it up from the warehouse before you check out."

"Too big to fit in the bag? Sam, what exactly do you think we're getting today?"

But Sam is already walking off, completely disregarding Steve's apprehension. "Your apartment is boring. It needs some decoration!"

Steve makes a noise of disagreement, but shrugs rather than stopping Sam. He figures he can get rid of everything once they get to the register. Because no way was Steve paying for two different-yet-nearly identical napkin holders, and he knows Sam doesn't make that much working at the VA hospital.  
Sam steers Steve through level after level of Ikea: through the kitchen wares and into mocked-up office spaces; away from racks of carpeting hanging from the ceiling and beneath hallways of light fixtures; out of an endless room of chrome faucets and past more types of couches and armchairs and mattresses than Steve even knew existed. Sam lets him marvel, goggle-eyed, at the sheer amount of goods available. It's like one of HYDRA's endless warehouses, if HYDRA developed interesting new ways to build trundle beds, instead of death rays. Steve doesn't even realize they've been wandering for nearly two hours, until his rumbling stomach calls for attention and he looks down at his watch.

"Snack time?" Sam asks, smiling. He finds Steve's eating habits as amusing as the amount of times Steve laps him when they go out running.

"Yeah. You said they had good meatballs, right?" Steve says uncertainly. It was a furniture store. Why would they be known for their food?

"Yeah, this way." Sam turns around, walking back through a display of children's bedroom towards the elevator bank. Steve follows him, still in shock over the variety of goods on display. Honestly, it's the consumerism and the fact that he can afford it that gets Steve the most.

 

They've been sitting in the food court for about fifteen minutes when Steve gets the distinct feeling of being watched. And not in the "people recognize me" or the "how much is that guy eating" way. He had gotten two plates of the Swedish meatballs, a plate of lasagna, three hot dogs, fries, and a slice of chocolate cake, so he wouldn't be surprised if people were staring.

"Sam?" Steve questioned uncertainly.

"Shh," Sam shushes. "He's been moving closer. Do you think we should try to lure him in with ice cream or a hot dog?"

"What?" Steve has no idea what Sam is talking about. He turns around despite Sam flailing about trying to stop him.

Bucky.

He's sitting about five rows behind them, hunched over a plate of fried potatoes. He's wearing a navy hoodie and his hair is long and greasy.

Steve turns back around, not wanting Bucky to realize he saw him. Though were they really going to play it like that? Steve sighs.

"Ice cream," he replies.

Sam starts to get up, but Steve stops him.

"I'll go."

Sam sits back down. "Make sure you get me a swirl! I love me a chocolate vanilla swirl." Sam winks at Steve as he walks away.

When Steve comes back with the three ice cream cones, Bucky is sitting across from Sam, who is listening intently to Bucky with the same expression on his face that he has at the VA hospital, but Steve can't hear a thing.

Sam looks up and spots him, motioning that it's safe for him to come over.

Bucky is hunched over a plate of fries that Steve had left when he'd gone for the ice cream. Steve sits down next to Sam and holds out the ice cream, like a peace offering. It's tense for a moment, Bucky staring at him with a mixture of hope and fear, like he knows what's supposed to happen, but doesn't trust that it really will.

Steve meets his eyes and continues to hold out the ice cream. It's starting to drip down his hands. There are two swirls and one vanilla. Bucky grabs one of the swirls and waits. Sam grabs his swirl as well and Steve draws him arm back in with the vanilla. Sam starts eating his and Bucky relaxes, taking a tentative lick of his, Steve's eyes on him the whole time. When Bucky starts eating it like he's actually enjoying it, Steve relaxes, letting out a sigh before eating his in earnest.

Sam has a small triumphant smile on his face as he eats his own cone.

 

On the way out of Ikea, Bucky trailing behind them, Steve elbows Sam. "I told you I didn't need a new couch."

 

Less than a week later, Bucky announces that the couch needs to go. But this time they decide to order online instead.


End file.
